


Accidental Murder and Other Ways to Bond

by DyslexicTrashWriter



Series: EXTREME FEELINGS! - A RyohiexGokudera Mess [3]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-19 04:05:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19349152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DyslexicTrashWriter/pseuds/DyslexicTrashWriter
Summary: In which Gokudera discovers he's inherited his sister uh . . . talent for cooking





	Accidental Murder and Other Ways to Bond

Gokudera would never admit it, but he loved going to Ryoheis matches. There’s something cathartic about the anonymity of a crowd that lets Gokudera lose himself. Because under the cover of hundreds of people he can cheer and shout and scream unintelligible noises of impulsive reactions and nobody cares. He can cheer for Ryohei until his lungs give out and it’s barely a blip on anyone's radar.  And he thought his boyfriend didn’t notice, that he’d successfully snuck into so many matches without being caught he’d become a pro. That was, until he missed one. 

“I nearly lost because you weren’t there.” Ryohei telling him, earnest and loud as he takes on a tone nowhere near scolding but so honestly open and raw it makes Gokduera shirk in his seat all the same. He grumbles back something about never having been to his matches and Ryhoei laughs with a mouth full of takeaway curry as if it’s the funniest thing he’s heard. Before he can stop it, the boxer's arm is around his shoulder and Gokduera is either being pulled in for an awkward chest hug or the hardest noogie he’s had in his unfortunate life. It turns out to be both, his boyfriend's hard knuckles grinding against his head while he continues to laugh before practically forcing Gokudera’s head to rest in his lap with –what is probably to him- a gentle movement of his hands. “You’ve been at every match since high school.” Ryohei beams proudly. “I always hear you.” 

Gokudera tries to hide his face in the bend of Ryoheis knee, like the burning red shame of being called out on his secret hobby will be less present on his face if he does so. “There’s no fucking way you can hear me with all those other idiots screaming like the other enthusiastic airheads they are.” He grumbles. “Besides, you nearly lost because you keep eating all this  _fucking_  takeaway!” He snaps. “Maybe if you stop being so fucking lazy whenever I come over, you’d stand a better chance of beating that fucking asshole with the smug grin of his face!” Gokudera shouts, fists curing into a ball.  

“Mori-senpai?” Ryohei asks, and Gokudera doesn’t need to look up to know Ryoheis got that innocent questioning look on his face. 

“Yes, fucking Mori-senpai, he nearly beat you in the fucking semi-finals because you were too busy with your head in the fucking clouds and  _not_ paying attention to your  _fucking_  footwork like the dim-witted glorified knuckle duster you are!” He shouts, only able to draw breath once he’s finished the insult. 

Gokudera screws his eyes shut and rubs his nose against Ryohei’s thigh, tensing as he realises he’s shouting at his boyfriend again instead of addressing his feelings like Juidame and the baseball idiot keeps encouraging him to. 

“I. . .” He begins, but he’s cut off by a rough hand cupping his shoulder. 

“So you do come to my matches,” Ryohei says, his voice proud with an obvious lilt to it that lets Gokudera know he’s got an equally prideful grin on his face as the boxer strokes his boyfriend's shoulder in reassurance and quiet celebration of his victory. 

 

 

Gokudera knew he wasn’t good with words, that he was a fire-spitting and volatile when given the right type of fuel –which was basically anything if he’s being honest with himself. But he was learning to deal with that. While he was working on controlling the flames, he could help with damage control. Even though Ryohei had laughed it off, something still niggled at his conscious like a lecherous leech that only recently seemed to appear once he started to consider Ryohei. . . well, important to him. See, he hadn’t been wrong about his insult. Ryohei  _did_  need to start eating properly if he wanted to win. T here was no way the idiot turf head could win his next series of matches living off pizza and whatever was left at the student cafeteria at the end of the day. So Gokudera picks up a few books on nutrition, and another few on chemical biology, a handful of journals on athletic dietary management and puts himself to work. Saying he cared about Ryohei was hard, but  _doing_  something for him that could be brushed off as a passing favour -“oh no I made too much food that I won’t be able to eat it all myself it’s only logical that you consume some too  lest it go to waste”- somehow came a little easier.  

He’d let Ryohei have a hoodie of his once and that’d been his entire conversation topic for the whole day.  Passionately informing everyone who would listen that the hoodie wasn’t his but his boyfriends. Fuck knows how he’d handle an entire bento box. Gokudera grits his teeth as he imagines carrying out the gesture, the two brain celled idiot would probably brag about it for a week later. “My boyfriend Gokudera Hayato made my lunch.” “Do you remember that time you made me lunch Gokudera. It was  ~~EXTREME~~  really great.” “Can you make me another, I want to send a picture to Kyoko”.  Gokudera dips his head behind the sleek book he’d been reading to hide the reddening of his cheeks as he imagines Ryohei telling everyone he knows about it.  The stupid idiot unable to keep his mouth shut and just . . . being proud of him for such a pathetic gesture makes Gokduera feel weirdly warm in his chest and it takes several deep breaths before his face returns to normal. 

                                                   

Two hours and one oh-fuck-oh-fuck-oh-fuck fire situation later, Gokudera has a meal. He looks over the glistening ramen noodles, the seared edges of premium cut meat, the contrasting colours of finely chopped vegetables that line the bowl. He then takes the magazine page away from his face and stares at the bubbling purple conception he’s managed to conjure. 

Cautiously, he picks up a fork and tries to arrange some of the less grotesque looking bits towards the front of the tupperware box. He’s doing a terrible job when the front door to Ryoheis flat opens. “I’m home!” The idiot shouts, as if the door doesn’t open straight onto the kitchen/lounge and Gokudera can  _clearly_ see him from where he’s standing. 

“Oh, Gokudera you’re cooking?” Ryohei asks, looking curiously at the tupper ware box in front of him.  

“I-it’s --” Gokduera stumbles to try and find an excuse for what he’s doing, when the idiot steps forward and stares at its contents. 

“You made this?” Ryohei asks, not tearing his eyes away from the monstrosity in front of him. 

“I-I wanted to make something for your match, it didn’t-” 

“EXTREME!” Ryohei shouts, shoving the lid haphazardly onto the plastic box and turning to give Gokudera a backbreaking hug. “You’re the most extreme boyfriend I could ask for!” 

Another time, Gokduera might have shoved him off. But the times he manages to put up enough of a front to Ryoheis unbounding acts of affection were becoming less and less every day. Ryohei affections weren't the kind of thing that could be brushed off, just shouted at in the hope they went away if ignored for long enough. They were loud, and bold and undeniable even in the face of all Gokuderas protests. And so incredibly hard to escape. Especially like now when he's forced to confront them head-on with warm arms wrapped around his frame. Involuntarily making Gokudera feel so  _worthy_ , so appreciated, so filled with love he could do nothing but sink and melt into it with only the strong embrace of Ryohei to save him from drowning completely. 

“I- I don’t think it’s safe to eat.” He stumbles out as Ryohei plants an unexpected open mouthed kiss onto his jaw. They’re exactly the same height, but somehow Ryohei always feels taller, bigger than Gokudera. And maybe that’s why he lets Ryohei rest a hand on the wall behind him, lets the airhead muscle slathered boy lean over him and just take his lips for himself.  Gokudera practically loses all sense as his own hands come up to fist at the white-haired man's t-shirt collar. He lets out a small grunt of protest when Ryoheis rough, chapped lips leave his and being trailing down his throat, a tug at the fabric in Gokdueras hands demanding he bring them back. “I’d eat anything you gave me.” He murmurs into Gokudera neck as the boxer picks him up in freakishly strong arms and carries him to the bedroom. 

 

It’s Ryoheis fault he’s late. Sure, Gokduera made the god-awful mistake  _again_ of thinking he could keep up with the sun guardians inhumane stamina, but he figured Ryohei would wake him on his way to the match, something about a good luck shag before he goes - as if he hadn’t nearly broken his boyfriend the night before. 

 With luck, Gokudera makes it before the first bell, unable to find his own clothes in the  _mess_  that is the idiots apartment, he shows up in skinny jeans and Ryoheis workout shirt that he’s not entirely sure is clean, but for some reason doesn’t mind as the scent of salt and sweat and whatever it was that made Ryohei smell so incredibly good to Gokudera now surrounded him. 

It’s not a slow match. Right off the bat, Ryohei lands two solid right jabs to the infamous Mori-senpais face. It’s satisfying to watch. Mori being one of the more unbearably annoying members of the university boxing team that had taken it upon himself to try and intimidate Ryohei. The boy too dense to catch the snide remarks thrown his way, but Gokudera caught them. He caught them and saved every single one in his head, labelling a stick of dynamite for each as he imagined blowing them up  _boom_ _boom_ _boom_ in the arrogant dickhead face. He would have done it too, if not for Ryoheis inescapably strong hands holding him back and lecturing him on how “beating your opponent up outside of the ring wasn’t extreme” and how “even if he was being insulted, it was a matter of sportsmanship and pride to hold yourself back for the actual fight.” Never, did Gokudera think he would receive a lecture on decorum from Ryohei. But a lot had changed since he started dating the airhead, and somedays, Gokudera couldn't find it in him to be mad about that fact. 

It seems his boyfriend was right though. All the anger he’d been hiding now focused on his furrowed brow,  tense awareness and aggression hidden tight in his shoulders, and to Gokuderas shallow joy, the deftness of his footwork.  Ryohei takes the first two matches with ease. His kangaroo-like hits seemingly doing enough to make the dickhead uneasy on his feet as he sways from side to side like a drunk. Another knock does it. And Gokudera screams at the top of his lungs with the roar of the crowd. “That’s my idiot!” He shouts. “Fucking punch him!” His voice drowns and swells into the unintelligible wild screams of the people around him, but Ryoheis head snaps around and looks at him. A wildly pleased grin spreads over his face, and with a quick wink he turns back to deliver the final blow. 

 

It's half time and Gokduera decides the façade of pretending he’s not here is kind of ruined. Stupid Ryhoei and his fucking ears. He could have at least kept pretending he didn’t know he was there for the sake of Gokuderas pride. With one angry snap of the changing room door, Gokudera storms in. 

He’s expecting to see the turf top idiot drenched in sweat and dosing himself with water. Instead what he finds is Mori-senpai, in his boyfriend's arms. 

“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!” Gokudera shouts, heart racing as the image unfolds in front of him. 

“Gokudera, it’s EXTREMELY not what it looks like!” Ryohei assures him loudly, his arms dropping Mori-senpais body to take Gokduera’s arm instead. 

Mori-senpai's body hits the ground like a ton of bricks. The thud loud enough to distract both men. A deep thud that Gokudera recognises from years in the mafia. “Is he fucking dead?” Gokudera whispers, trying to control the anger and shock rising in his body. 

“He’s sleeping.” Ryohei insists, picking up the man and dragging him to one of the benches. “I didn’t hit him hard enough to kill him.” Ryohei says confidently.  

“You were pretty fuckin reckless out there.” Gokudera snaps as he realises the man chest isn’t moving. 

“Of course I was. I was mad to the extreme! He ate my bento box!” Ryohei informs him, looking troubled and annoyed as his fists clench. “I was extremly looking forward to eating it.”  

Gokudera mentally compiles and saves that compliment to his mind if only to fully savour it in private later. He runs his hands over the man's body, searching for a sigh of pulse, or breath. There’s none, just the ghastly smell of sick and what can only be described as wet rotting toenail flesh wafts from the unconscious man's mouth.  

The storm guardian steps back, looking at his –now- partner in crime. “We need to get rid of him ASAP.”  

**Author's Note:**

> ITS MY FAVE COUPLE SHENANNAGINS OMg i LOVED writing for this prompt a massive thank you to KHR rarepair week and the fantastic people behind it for sparking the creativity for this! 
> 
> Accidental murder as a pairing prompt just screamed these two idiots and urghhh couldn't resist. Really hope you guys enjoyed and honestly can't wait to write a chapter two for this because god damn these two <3 <3


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